


come and rest your bones with me

by quibbler



Series: bones au [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Book: Bloody Bones, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quibbler/pseuds/quibbler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Jemma Simmons, the world's top forensic anthropologist, and Agent Leopold Fitz of the FBI are partnered together to solve murder cases. What happens when you pit the head against the heart?</p><p>Or the Bones AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come and rest your bones with me

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel owns SHIELD and Fox owns Bones. You don't have to be familiar with Bones to read this fic, but it would make the dialogue and relationships more familiar.
> 
> The title is from Sunday Morning by Maroon 5.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A case is brought to SHIELD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features heavy dialogue borrowed from the pilot episode. Future chapters will likely have some borrowed dialogue, but less of it.

The duffel bag in one hand is just starting to feel slightly too heavy when Jemma spots her best friend at the information counter... Flashing the employee. "Tell me you tried 'excuse me' first."

Skye wheels around as she buttons her shirt up as quickly as possible, a smile spreading across her face as she brings in Jemma with one arm for a hug. "Sweetie! Was Guatemala awful? Was it horribly backwards?"

Jemma rolls her eyes. "And yet I was never reduced to flashing my boobs for information."

Skye grins as they begin walking. "Did you flash them for any fun reasons?"

Jemma sighs. "I was literally neck deep in a mass grave, Skye, not much room for fun." The hairs prickle at the base of her neck as she drops her bag, whirling around to stop the man following them. "Sir, is something wrong? Because there must be a good reason why you're following us." The man reaches for her wrist and she springs.

Skye cheers. "Kick his ass!" Jemma grabs his arm and twists, kicking him in the back, twisting again before kneeing him in the chest. He falls and she brings his arm behind his back. There's a crowd now, with several security officers and their guns pointed on her. "He started it."

"I'm Homeland Security!"

Jemma's eyebrows shoot up and she lets go, raising her hands. "Lower your weapons."

"Is she in charge? Keep your guns up!" The man takes her bag and opens the zipper before dropping the bag in surprise.

The skull is in clear view and she sees Skye smirking out of the corner of her eye. "Boo."

\-----

The mobile in her left pocket is going wild, but Jemma doesn't really think that airport security will be particularly happy with her if she takes a call whilst being detained. "Sir, for the hundredth time, I'm an anthropologist employed by SHIELD and the reason I'm travelling with human remains is because I was asked to study them. I haven't committed murder--these bones are over 200 years old, for Christ's sake!"

"Ma'am, you are illegally transporting human remains. And you assaulted a Homeland Security officer." The officer almost looks amused and Jemma almost wants to kick him under the table. "SHIELD? What is that?"

Jemma sighs, just barely avoiding smashing her forehead against the metal surface of the table and instead resorting to a spectacular eye roll. "Smithsonian Hominal Identification, Examination, and Litigation Department. The name wasn't my idea." She reaches for her mobile, looking down at the number. "Look, I'm sorry, but I have to take this call." She picks up the call. " _What?_ "

_"Is that how you answer FBI phone calls now, Simmons?"_

"It is when I've been detained at the airport for over an hour, Fitz."

There's a knock on the door and she whips her head around to see the special agent in question behind the glass, waving with one hand, his mobile in the other. She lets out a disbelieving sigh as the man interrogating her opens the door and Agent Fitz just waltzes in. "Thank you, Blake. I'll take over from here." He turns to Jemma with a grin on his face. "Dead man's been found in Arlington Cemetery. Are you in?"

He turns to leave without waiting for her response, so she snatches up her bag and the skull on the table and storms off after Fitz. "Are you _joking?_ That was a ruse just to get me from the airport? Skye was here to pick me up and bring me back to the Smithsonian! And Arlington Cemetery is full of dead men, Fitz, it's a bloody cemetery."

Fitz snorts. "She told me she flashed the desk attendant."

Jemma grins, her irritation momentarily forgotten. "Skye thinks on her feet." She pauses before her brows furrow again. "The salient point of this is that you could happen across a better idea to fetching me from Reagan!"

His car is parked in the taxi lane and she reluctantly admits to herself that sometimes being involved with FBI investigations has its perks, like not having to call a cab or find her car amidst a completely full car park. Fitz stops before they even make it to the car and Jemma nearly runs into his back and she huffs in annoyance. "Look, do you want to help identify the victim or not? I can just as easily drop you off at the Smithsonian."

She glares at him as she adjusts the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "I'll help under one condition."

Fitz raises an eyebrow. "And what's the condition?"

"I get to participate in the case. Full participation, not just lab work."

There's barely a pause before he grins. "All you had to do was ask. We're Scully and Mulder."

She tilts her head, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know what that means."

He sighs. "Never you mind, Simmons. Let's go."

\-----

The body is found in a pond in the cemetery and when they dredge it up, Jemma pulls on her bodysuit and snaps on a pair of nitrile gloves before crouching down over the tarp. "Remains were wrapped in 4 mil flat poly construction sheeting--PVC-coated chicken wire. Weighted, so the body didn't float during decomposition. Complete skeleton, but the skull is shattered. Female, early 20s--likely between 18 and 22, about 5'3", race unknown, delicate features. There's a cut between the fourth and fifth ribs--possible cause of death."

She doesn't look up, but she thinks Fitz is probably raising his eyebrows at her. "Is that all?" There are more footsteps and it's probably Ward joining them.

"Tennis player," she adds, her eyes flying to the shoulder. "Bursitis in the shoulder. She's too young for it to be degenerative--it's a common athletic injury."

"Time of death?" Definitely Ward. How someone as mildly awkward as he was managed to become an FBI psychologist was beyond her, but he had an interest in forensics and that was enough for the Smithsonian to allow him to participate in their examinations.

She straightens, removing her gloves. "I won't be able to tell until we bring the body back to the lab and let our bug and slime expert take a look. I need water and soil samples, too."

Fitz whistles loud and sharp. "Let's get these bones to the museum!"

\-----

She trails behind her boss by only a few steps, partially out of respect but mostly because she's so much shorter that it requires quite the effort to keep up. "I wish you wouldn't just give me to the FBI."

Fury sighs. "As a federally funded institution, the Smithsonian needs to take every opportunity to prove how useful we are to the men on top of the hill, so I'll loan you out as I see fit, especially to federal agents."

"Loan out implies property, Dr. Fury, and the FBI will never respect me as property."

"You're not property, you're one of SHIELD's best assets." He almost sounds offended at the accusation, which makes Jemma suppress a grin.

"An asset is by definition property--look, Dr. Fury," she starts, stopping the both of them just before exiting the hall, "FBI agents will never respect any of us if you simply dole out scientists like office temps."

He frowns, staring at Jemma with his one good eye. She stares back. "Dr. Simmons, are you playing me?"

"You know I'm no good at that."

"Thus far, but you have a disturbingly steep learning curve."

\-----

"This is disgusting."

Jemma gives Skye a grin. Her best friend makes the workplace a little more colourful every day, and she's secretly quite glad Skye was willing to take the job at the Smithsonian. "I need a facial reconstruction as soon as possible, Skye. We'll give you the finished skull when we get the flesh removed."

Skye nods, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Good. I prefer holographs. They don't stink."

"Microbe activity was high in the pond because of the warm temperatures and some fish turned our victim into a snack, which accelerated decomposition." Trip scoots over in the computer chair with two petri dishes. "Ready to hear the tale the insect larvae are singing?" Skye rolls her eyes and dry heaves behind his back, though it doesn't go unnoticed.

He turns around to grin at her, shrugging one shoulder. "You can always leave the room, Skye," he adds, before turning back toward the rest of the group. "I've got three larval stages of Trichoptera, Chironimidae... And you don't need to know that. The body was in the pond for one winter and two summers." Skye stops her half-farce of gagging behind Jemma's back, if the noises are any indication.

Jemma squints at the screen. "So, time of death was approximately the spring before last."

Trip nods before continuing."I also found frog bones. Here." He points to tiny bones underneath the magnifying glass and Jemma tilts her head, trying to categorise the information in her mind.

"I'll need to figure out what the microscopic grit embedded in the skull fragments is, too. Let's deflesh the bones so I can put together the skull." Fitz is standing at the bottom of the stairs to the examination station, staring at the ID scanner and Jemma barely avoids rolling her eyes before she dismisses everyone and steps down, stopping a step above him, her arms crossed over her chest. "Did you catch any of that?"

He shrugs. "The body's been in the pond for a year and a half, but other than that, nothing. Am I going to need a badge? You know, to get in?"

"Only if you make yourself useful in the lab."

"Typical squints," he mutters, and Jemma takes the final step, bringing herself closer to him to glare.

"I don't know what that means."

"You know, when the coppers get stuck, we bring in people like you. You squint at things. Ergo, squints." Fitz shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Oh, you mean people with high IQs and basic reasoning skills?" Jemma deadpans, turning away from him to walk toward her office so she could grab her supplies for the reconstruction.

She hears the sound of his arms dropping against his sides without needing to turn around. "You're a smartarse, d'you know that?"

She grins and keeps walking. "Objectively I'd say I'm very smart, although it has nothing to do with my arse."

\-----

The hologram system is up and running when Jemma walks into Skye's office the next morning where everyone else has gathered, her neck still sore from falling asleep at the lab bench after completing the skull. "Does Fitz know how this works?"

"I'm perfectly capable of working out an electronic system, thank you," he replies grumpily, arms crossed over his chest. Jemma raises an eyebrow but says nothing. She still hasn't quite figured out what he did before field work, but she reasons it has something to do with computer engineering and turns back to the table.

Skye pulls out her tablet. "Simmons placed tissue markers on the finished skull, and with her science-y mumbo-jumbo, I've entered some calculations and measurements to indicate that she's African-American." She taps a few times before an image of the skeleton appears, and a few more taps brings up a likeness. "And there's our victim."

Jemma turns to look at the skull, tilting her head. "What about mixed race, Skye? Reduce the tissue depth from cheekbone to jawbone." The image morphs and Jemma steps back. "Does anyone else recognise her?"

Fitz raises his hand. "Margo Beckman, missing for two years."

Ward frowns. "The girl who had an affair with the senator?"

"We couldn't confirm that." Fitz stands straighter, turning toward Jemma. "I was secondarily in charge of finding her. Look, can we keep this quiet?"

Trip chuckles in disbelief. "The government's always trying to hide something. What if the senator had her killed?"

"Please don't try the conspiracy theory lark again." Fitz frowns. "How did you figure out what she looks like from a bunch of bone shards?"

"It's what I do, Fitz. Bones are like architecture--the foundation, if you will, and flesh usually follows complex mathematical formulae." He moves for the door but she grabs hold of his elbow instead as everyone else leaves. "What's your plan now? Do we confront Senator Durham?"

Fitz directs his gaze toward the doorway over her head and she can almost see the wheels in his head churning. "There'll be a new investigation for this case and maybe, just _maybe_ if I line all my ducks in a row--"

"--I don't know what that means, but I think I could be a duck--"

"--you're not a duck." He sighs, looking back down at her. She is on the verge of glaring. "I promised you full participation, though, so I guess I need to keep that promise."

She crosses her arms, nodding once. "If you don't, SHIELD will release a statement identifying our victim. Blackmailing a federal agent is... frowned upon, but I'm not afraid to resort to dirty tactics."

"I'll fight dirty right back, Simmons."

She shrugs.

\-----

Ward is unusually stoic for a psychologist and field agent. It isn't that Jemma particularly minds his presence, but her disdain for his field would usually have brought up multiple shouting matches. They've only had one and despite all of her jabbing remarks, he hasn't risen to the bait since. It's an experiment she intends to continue.

"Gregory Fredricks, the victim's boyfriend, is very politically savvy, kept misdirecting my questions. The only thing he mentioned about his personal life was his tropical fish."

She sighs. "So he's hiding something."

Ward shrugs. "Aren't all politicians hiding something?"

\-----

Skye steals a fry from the food that Jemma isn't touching. "So Margo was having an affair with Senator Durham."

Jemma nods, halfheartedly swiping a hand at her friend's theft. "The victim's boyfriend, Gregory Fredricks, is Durham's aide. He must have known, right? Fredricks?"

Fitz knocks on the glass just outside the doorway to her office. "Skye, I'm going to have to steal her away from you. It's time to go speak to the Beckman family." He directs this last bit toward Jemma, who turns toward Skye with a small smile.

 _Here they go_.

\-----

 

It's the first time she has ever gone to speak to a victim's family. As a forensic anthropologist, she is used to feeling more detached from what she considers irrational human emotion, especially because the bones she observes tend to be hundreds if not thousands of years old. But it is completely different when there are living family members.

The conversation goes something like this:

"Major Beckman, I'm so sorry but a body was found that we believe to be your daughter's." Fitz has more tact than she does.

A pause. "Are you sure it was our daughter?"

"We established 22 points of comparison--"

"--yes. We're positive." Jemma glares at Fitz's interruption but nods.

"Can you at least tell us if our daughter suffered?"

"Given the state of her skull--"

"--she didn't see it coming."

When they leave, there are too many feelings just out of reach so instead she focuses on her frustration with Fitz. "Their daughter just died, Fitz, they deserve to know the truth."

Fitz doesn't look at her as they walk back to the car. "They deserve the kindness of a lie."

\-----

The car ride is mostly quiet as Jemma thoroughly ignores what she's feeling and takes stock of what information they've been given, reading through the evidence file Trip gave her before they left. "The debris in the skull was diatomaceous earth. It can be used as a cleaning abrasive, filtering agent... It's very common."

"That really narrows things down." Fitz turns to her with an eyebrow raised and she feels a prickle of irritation toward him. "You know, talking to people, especially victims' families and suspects, requires a different set of skills than the one you use to deduce information from bones."

Jemma sits up straighter. "You're an engineer, Fitz, what do you know about interpersonal skills?"

"Oy." His eyebrows furrow as he turns back to the road. "You can't just say whatever is on your mind, Simmons, pry into someone's life like that. You have to offer something personal to get something personal from someone else."

The rest of the ride back to the Smithsonian is silent.

\-----

Trip all but waltzes into the examination room, one hand shoved into a pocket and the other holding test results. "In a nutshell, anxious, depressed, and nauseous."

Jemma doesn't look up. "Take a sick day."

He laughs. "Not me, the victim. There were antidepressants in her system."

She processes this information as she raises a rib closer to her face. "There's a stab wound here, and strange marks on the distal phalanges." A thought strikes her and she puts the bone down. "Would you please pass me the tray with the frog bones?"

He does, and she places them underneath the microscope, pulling up a chair. "A _ha_. These aren't frog bones--they're fetal ear bones."

Trip frowns, looking up at the screen where the bones are projected. "Margo Beckman was pregnant." He almost slams his fist on the desk but catches himself. "That senator probably did it to cover it up. Gets a senate intern pregnant and knows it'll ruin his career--he has the connections to get away with murder."

"Sliding down a slippery slope there, Triplett. Plausible paranoia seems to be your specialty." Jemma turns toward him, scrunching her nose at his theory. "Let's see if there's enough genetic material for a DNA reading."

He nods, taking the tray. "Agent Fitz is going to have a hard time convincing his bosses to pursue this case if a Senator is involved. I bet the trail goes cold after this."

As he walks away, Jemma can't stop frowning.

\-----

She hears Skye approaching before she even speaks, the bouncy gait just audible against the pavement. "I think we deserve a night off. Get some drinks, maybe, meet some cute guys." Jemma turns as her best friend sits down beside her. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"What if Fitz is right? I'm not very good with people, am I?" Skye frowns and Jemma holds up a hand. "No, really. I'm good with bones but shit with people. Live ones, anyway. My most meaningful relationships are with dead people."

"Sweetie, that's not true. People like you."

"I don't care if men like me."

Skye raises an eyebrow, tugging on Jemma's elbow so they can start walking down the steps of the building. "Interesting leap from people to men, but I'm sure it doesn't mean anything."

Jemma makes a face. "I hate psychology." Skye throws one hand into the air but then nods for Jemma to continue. "I understand Margo quite well and all I've seen is her bones. When she was 7, she broke her wrist likely falling from a bicycle and 2 weeks later, before the doctors could remove the cast, she got right back on the bike and broke it again. And when she was being murdered, she fought back, hard, even though she was so depressed she could hardly get up in the morning."

Skye stops them both and turns to stand in front of Jemma. "She wanted to live. Listen, Jem, maybe you come off a little distant because you connect too much."

"I hate psychology, it's a soft science."

Skye grins, standing next to Jemma and threading her arm through her best friend's before tugging so they can start walking again. "I know, but people are mostly soft."

"Except for their bones."

"You want some advice? Offer up a bit of yourself once in a while. Just tell somebody something you're not completely sure you want them to know."

Jemma narrowly avoids rolling her eyes. "That's the second time I've been given that advice."

"Well, you know I give great advice."

Jemma spends the rest of the walk to her car devising a plan.

\-----

Capitol Hill is large and imposing and Jemma doesn't care for it, quickly crossing the rotunda to find Senator Durham and his aide hurrying along. "Senator Durham, the FBI has found new evidence that requires your participation."

The senator stops, wheeling around in concern. "You're not with the FBI, are you? I find it hard to believe that they'd send you to talk to me instead of a federal agent."

Jemma tries not to smile. "They sent me because I'm the one who discovered that Margo Beckman was pregnant. Now the only question is which of the two of you is the father. Are you willing to submit to a DNA test?"

Fredricks raises an eyebrow. "You got that from her skeleton? Never mind that, given the sensitivity surrounding the case, my advice is to not say anything without an attorney present."

Senator Durham smiles. "And I intend to take that advice. Have a nice day." He turns, spits out his gum into the nearest trash can and walks away, Fredricks trailing behind him.

Jemma snaps on a glove and reaches into the bin, retrieving the gum.

"What are you doing?" A voice echoes behind her and she turns, pulling out an evidence bag from her pocket and dropping the gum into it.

"Saliva from chewing gum is an excellent source of DNA. I'll be comparing it to the DNA found in the fetal bones."

The Senator looks shellshocked and Jemma knows she's backed him into a corner. "You need a warrant for that." Fredricks reaches for her wrist and she brings a knee up to his stomach as hard as she can muster. He crumples.

"Have a nice day!"

\-----

Fitz closes the office door behind them, looking downtrodden and Jemma feels the worry gnawing at her insides. "Don't stand up for me next time. I got you in trouble by going to see the Senator without FBI approval and instead you tell him that I proved Senator Durham was having an affair with Margo Beckman because I took the gum and he protested. How is that fair?"

The DNA sample from the fetal bones couldn't prove paternity, but she drew the conclusion of the affair herself after Durham protested. Still, Fitz didn't need to say anything--he would be off the case by morning and Jemma watches in bewilderment as he shrugs. "Your heart was in the right place, Simmons."

"I'm not a heart person. _You're_ the heart person. I'm a brain person. Do you think the Senator did it?"

"He's had affairs with a dozen interns. It doesn't seem his style. Come on, I'll bring you back to the lab."

\-----

"Skull trauma was not the cause of death--Margo was stabbed first. She was stabbed five to eight times with a military-issued cable knife." They're in Skye's office again, the holograms just coming together.

Skye taps her tablet rapidly. "This is a super rough rendering of what happened that night." The hologram shows two people, Margo and her attacker. "She had defensive wounds on her hands suggesting a struggle and it wasn't until the third or fourth penetration that took her down. She stopped fighting back."

Jemma nods, pointing at the hands of the hologram of Margo. "The pads of her fingers were cut off, which explains the strange cuts on her distal phalanges. Cranial fragmentation suggests she was struck with a 20-pound steel hammer four to five times. She was lying on a cement floor with traces of diatomaceous earth, which would explain the particulates in her skull."

Ward nods, his arms crossed as he analyses what's been presented. "It wasn't a crime of passion. The killer did everything he could to hide her identity. Smashing her skull, removing her fingerprints, clothes, jewelry, sinking her body."

"Margo never saw it coming. In case she was identified, the murderer planned ahead, used a military knife and dropped her in the pond of a military cemetery to implicate her father. Sound like a dirty, rotten senator to you?" Trip finishes, leaning against the edge of the table, arms resting against its surface.

Fitz looks around the table, ignoring Ward's expression of agreement with the rest of them. "I can't declare war on a United States senator. Evidence created via a hologram isn't evidence. It's a storyboard."

Jemma crosses her arms. "It's a logical recreation of evidence based off of our findings. A good hypothesis stands up to testing, which is precisely what we've done."

Fitz falls silent, staring at the hologram again. "Let me think about it."

\-----

The tension from their presentation still rattles around in her thoughts for hours, so Jemma waits until the next day before she finds herself in front of Fitz's office door. She considers knocking, but then she hears the sound of a video being played and instead, she pushes in quietly. "Fitz."

He jumps slightly before pausing the video. She can see the reflection of Margo with her parents in the glass behind him. "You know, partners share things with each other. I've been awful at it thus far, but maybe we should try." He picks up a file and holds it up for her to take.

She raises an eyebrow as she reaches. "So we're partners now?" The paper inside makes it very difficult for her to suppress a grin. "You got a warrant to search Senator Durham's residence."

He nods, leaning back in his chair. "I'm not doing this because you're a genius, by the way. I'm doing this for Margo."

The grin spreads.

\-----

A late night search of the senator's house, complete with reporters and cameras and quite the crowd, turns up the hammer only, no blood on the cement floor of the basement or diatomaceous earth. It's suspicious but hardly incriminating, so when Jemma sits down with the rest of the SHIELD team, she can't help but feel dejected.

It's Trip's voice that breaks her train of thought. "To catching the murdering bastard," he says, raising his Erlenmeyer flask. Jemma and Skye echo his sentiment, downing the contents.

Skye makes a face. "Ugh, this smells either incredibly sterile or like fish. I can't tell anymore. Maybe it's just the lab."

Jemma frowns as she stares at the empty flask. Something about Skye's words--" _Fish!_ " Trip and Skye both whip their heads toward her, bewildered. "Diatomaceous earth can be used as a filtering agent, like for tropical fish?" Trip nods, still looking confused. "Ward told me Fredricks mentioned he has tropical fish--oh, bloody hell." She bolts to her feet, the empty flask lying forgotten on the seat next to her. "Call Fitz and tell him where I'm going, okay?"

She doesn't hear Skye's question as she bolts for her office to grab her eyes. "Did Simmons actually _say_ where she was going?"

\-----

Logically, Jemma acknowledges that she should not be cornering a murderer without backup, but time is not on the law's side tonight, so she parks her car and walks up to Gregory Fredricks' house. There's a clatter inside that gives her an overwhelming sense of urgency as she peers into the window, seeing the man in question in a room surrounded by fish tanks, blue light giving an eerie glow. "Hey, you're not allowed to destroy evidence!"

She is certain that Fredricks hears her but he keeps moving and Jemma moves to find an entrance. The door has glass panes and she picks up a garden statue to smash one in order to unlock the door.

"This is a private residence. If you don't have a warrant, you are breaking and entering."

The voice travels from the room as Jemma approaches. "I'm working with the FBI. If I have reasonable suspicion that a crime is being committed, I don't need a warrant." She stops as she sees Fredricks appear in her line of sight.

He gives a small snort. "What crime?"

"The destruction of evidence pertinent to an ongoing federal investigation."

Fredricks smiles, looking up at her, pausing his haphazard pattern of movement. "I'm just cleaning up." He steps closer and frowns. "Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?" He starts pouring gasoline on the linoleum floor, which still stinks of linseed oil. Jemma notes that it's new and that Fredricks clearly doesn't know linoleum doesn't burn. She smacks her heel down on the flooring once or twice, knowing that beneath it lies cement with Margo's blood on it. "You might want to get out of here."

Jemma crosses her arms. "I can't let you destroy evidence. I've got ways to stop you."

He laughs in disbelief. "Before I burn this place down with you in it?" He reaches into his pocket for a lighter just as Jemma reaches into hers for a gun.

She shoots.

Fredricks collapses onto the ground, the gunshot wound in his thigh starting to bleed heavily. He screams and Jemma moves to stand over him, gun still pointed in case he moves to retaliate. "I don't understand why you did it. It wasn't jealousy or passion. Your girlfriend wouldn't give up your boss' baby so you just _stabbed_ her? What kind of twisted psychology is that?" Her voice isn't staying in its usual timbre and her emotions are going haywire, but her logical side is holding rigid.

"Simmons." She wheels around, gun pointed at the source of the voice, but she lowers her arms at the sight of Fitz. "Back-up is on its way. Why did you have to shoot him?"

She doesn't have an answer for him. "The evidence said he did it, but I can't figure out the motive. You know what? It doesn't matter."

"It was to save his job. If the Senator were involved in a scandal, Fredricks would never make it to the top of the food chain." Fitz sighs, pulling out his mobile and making a call. "I suppose you'll need to put pressure on that until we get an ambulance."

\-----

The funeral for Margo Beckman makes something rattle against Jemma's ribcage but she swallows it down and watches as the girl's family lays flowers on the casket. Fitz is standing next to her, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Is there anything I can do to prevent anyone from pressing charges?"

He knows what she means and shakes his head. "I'll take care of it. Next time, though, leave the shooting to me."

"Why? I'm a good shot."

He sighs. "For someone as rational as you are, you can be incredibly reckless." She suppresses a smile at that and they fall into a comfortable lull in the conversation before he speaks up again. "Oh, did you hear that you made the New York Times bestsellers list?"

She blinks. "Really? That's a good thing, right?"

"You need to get out more, Simmons."

The sun is too bright as she glances at the service. "I'll make the effort if I'm allowed to help you with future investigations."

Fitz grins. "Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've posted anything and this has been in the works since September, so I'm glad this chapter is finally done. This will be more of a collection of long drabbles in the universe, but more likely than not, you'll find me on Tumblr (quibbler there, too!) flailing about my ideas.


End file.
